The Consequences of Sam Puckett's Boredom
by heartlines
Summary: What really happened on that rainy day when Sam was bored out of her mind and shredding Freddie's love emails?


A/N: Hi! This is my first story in the iCarly fandom. It's inspired by Sam's blog entry on the iCarly website about shredding Freddie's love emails. Hope you guys like it. :)

Sam Puckett was bored. This was never a good thing on a normal day but on a dreary, rainy day when Sam was stuck alone at her house with Carly out of town and Freddie sick, Sam was out of distractions and left to her own devices, which always led to disastrous results.

It started out innocently enough. Sam just wanted to check her email. She had no new messages so she started browsing through her old messages which somehow led to her opening the 'folder that shall not be opened' aka Freddie's love emails.

Sam blamed her boredom but she ended up opening one. And then another. And another. The emails started when she was in Troubled Waters, though she didn't get to read them until she had gotten home. The last one was sent during their weekend absence from one another right before they broke up.

_Sam,_

_You're not answering any of my phone calls or texts so I don't know why I'd think you'd answer an email, but you've pretty much dropped off the face of the planet so I have to try something. _

_ You kissed me last night. You, Sam Puckett, kissed me, Freddie Benson, last night. _

_ I'm sorry but I still can't wrap my brain around it._

_ Can…Can we just talk about this, please?_

_Freddie_

_Dear Sam,_

_I guess it's official now. You're my girlfriend. Sam Puckett is my girlfriend. I think somewhere in the space time continuum, thirteen year old Freddie Benson's head just exploded. But present Freddie can't get this big goofy grin off his face._

_And I know, just because I'm your boyfriend now doesn't mean it's going to stop you from punching me because of my geekspeak. _

_You know what? Writing this email was a really dumb idea because what I really want right now is to hear your voice so I'm going to call you instead._

_ Your Boyfriend,_

_Freddie_

_P.S. Please don't break up with me because of this or kick me in places._

_Dear Sam,_

_I'm sorry. I've been thinking about this all night and Carly was right that we shouldn't have gotten her involved in our fights but she was wrong about the other stuff. Look, Sam, I really really like you and this thing we have is completely crazy but I'm not ready to give up on it, on us. You're right, I've been too critical and uptight since we started dating._

_I don't want to do this over email. I want to talk to you face to face. If you read this tonight, I'll be on the fire escape. Please meet me there._

_Yours,_

_Freddie_

Sam remembered that night. The night they had their disastrous date at Pini's and the making up (and making out) that followed on the fire escape. She felt the ache in her chest that she had been working so hard to bury threatening to claw out and knock the wind out of her. Sam resisted the urge, just barely, to smash her laptop into the wall and instead threw herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow, smashing her fists into the bed.

Why was she doing this to herself? Freddie was a complete nub and she was over him. And to prove it, she was going to delete all of those stupid emails. She didn't even know why she still kept them in the first place.

Sam dragged herself off her bed and back to her laptop. She clicked on 'delete folder' and the box that asked if she was sure she wanted to delete the folder popped up. The mouse pointer hovered over 'yes' but when she pressed the pad the pointer moved away. Sam realized that her hand was shaking and she couldn't make herself move the pointer back.

Forget this. She needed ham.

Thirty minutes and three ham sandwiches later, Sam was back in front of her computer. She'd found a package of printer paper that she had nicked from Freddie's room back when…A long time ago, and loaded up her printer. All of the emails were now printing away and she pulled out the shredder that her mom had randomly brought home one day.

Every piece of paper that came out of the printer went straight to the shredder and she watched Freddie's sweet words turn into tiny, unreadable strips of paper. When she finished with the last paper, she flushed the shredded pieces down the toilet, made a blog post on the iCarly website and then shut down her computer for the night.

Sam sighed and twirled around her desk chair for a few seconds. She looked out the window where the rain was loudly smacking against the glass, it was getting dark and there was no sign that the rain would be letting up anytime soon.

She wandered into the kitchen, thinking she might make herself a bacon sandwich. The fridge was actually well stocked with carrots, celery, potatoes and other assorted foods. Her mom was dating the manager of a grocery store and he'd taken to giving her surplus produce. Sam actually thought this one was a keeper. At least he gave them stuff instead of stealing stuff, which was a lot more than she could say for most of her mom's boyfriends.

She pulled out the bacon but realized she had used the last of the bread for her ham sandwiches earlier. She pulled out the potatoes and after a quick perusal of the cupboards to make sure she had everything she needed, she took out their large pot.

The truth was, when Sam put her mind to it, she was really good at a lot of things. Drawing, computers, cooking. The problem was, according to Carly and Freddie, was that she rarely put her mind to things unless they were bordering on or outright illegal. But boredom does a lot of things, including making Sam Puckett productive, and an hour later she had creamy bacon potato soup. And that led to her second bad decision of the night.

She blamed it completely on her boredom but Sam found herself scooping some of the soup into a smaller pot, calling a cab and then zipping herself up into a heavy jacket. Twenty minutes later she was at Bushwell Plaza and picking the numerous locks on Freddie's door. It was Saturday night and even though Sam knew that Mrs. Benson had the night shift every other Saturday, there was a chance that she might have called in to work to take care of her poor sick baby. But still, Sam risked it.

She heard the satisfying click of the last lock and opened the door, holding it open with her foot while she disabled the alarm with the code Freddie had given her. The living room was dark and Sam listened carefully, waiting for Mrs. Benson to come barging out and scream at her. She figured it was safe when she didn't appear and lifted up the pot and brought it to the kitchen. She made her way to Freddie's room, feeling her way through in the dark, not wanting to risk turning on any lights. She disabled Freddie's room alarm as soon as she came in and then turned to look at the bed where all she could see was a big lump underneath the comforter.

Sam hesitated. What was she even doing here? Up to this point she had been acting on autopilot, letting her body make the decisions without stopping to think about any of it. Maybe she should just leave. Just turn around, go home and pretend she was never here. She was almost out the door when she heard a groan. She froze and turned around.

She saw the lump on the bed moving and another pitiful moan came out. Unwillingly, she was drawn to him, her feet carrying her to the bed and then she was pulling down the covers so she could see him.

Freddie was sleeping but not fitfully. She could see sweat on his forehead but he was trembling from cold, he was also deathly pale. In a word, he looked horrible. And so pathetic that even Sam's steel heart was moved.

She sat down on the bed and felt his forehead, he was burning up. She looked to his bedside table where there was a thermometer, medicine, and a paper that listed the exact dosage Freddie needed and the exact time he needed to take it. On the floor there was a cooler that had water and orange juice in it.

Sam took the thermometer, which she was glad was one of those five second ear thermometers that Mrs. Benson probably forcefully bought from the hospital's medical supplier, and not one of those sticks that she found impossible to read. She put the thermometer in Freddie's ear and took it away quickly when it beeped. 103.5 it read. She was no expert on fevers but she knew that was really high.

She had no experience taking care of sick people whatsoever and pretty much no experience of anyone taking care of her, except for Carly. Sam thought about what Carly would do for her if she was this sick. Make her soup was the first thing that came to mind but that would involve waking Freddie up, which she wanted to avoid, plus feeding him wouldn't bring his fever down. She stood up and paced and tried to think about the last time she had been sick. She had slept in Carly's bed and Carly kept putting cold towels on her forehead that made her colder than she already felt and if it had been anyone but Carly doing that to her, she would have thrown the towels in their face.

Cold towels! That helps bring fevers down. Sam went into Freddie's bathroom and took out several small towels and a plastic tub. She filled the tub with cold water and brought it out to his room. She put a cold towel on his forehead and tucked his comforter around him. Freddie moaned and whined but thankfully didn't open his eyes. She looked at the paper Mrs. Benson left again and realized that it was time for Freddie to take his medicine.

Sam sighed and looked at him, she really didn't want to wake him up. It was bad enough that she was here. She didn't need him knowing that she was here, thinking that she cared or whatever. After changing his cold compress, she got up and walked to the kitchen, figuring that she might as well feed him before giving him his medicine. That's what Carly would do, she told herself.

The soup was still hot and Sam scooped some into a bowl. She also filled a glass with ice cubes that she could put in the water tub to keep it cold. Carefully, she made her way back to Freddie's room, placing the bowl on his nightstand and dumping the ice cubes into the water. She took the compress off Freddie's forehead and gently shook him.

"Wake up, nub," she said.

He moaned but didn't open his eyes.

"Wakey wakey…" she shook him harder.

His eyes finally opened though they looked glazed.

"Sam?" He mumbled.

"No, it's your mom," she said. "Come on, sit up."

"I don't feel good," he groaned.

"Yeah, no kidding."

He closed his eyes again and Sam sighed, deciding that he wouldn't be moving of his own willpower.

She sat down beside him and placed one arm underneath his back and the other over his chest, pulling him up to a semi-sitting position.

"Saaaam…" he whined.

She propped him on a pillow to keep him up and reached for the soup.

"You have to eat, nub," she said.

Freddie looked at her blearily and at the bowl in her hands. "Are-are you taking care of me?"

"It's a dream," she told him seriously.

"Ohh," he smiled. "This is a nice dream."

Sam blew on a spoonful of the soup and held it up to his mouth. He opened obediently but grimaced as the soup went down.

"Look Benson, I made this soup myself so if you say it's not good-"

"It's not that. I just, I'm not hungry. I just wanna sleep," he smiled again in that dazed way. "Can you be sleepy in a dream?"

"You have to eat, ba-Benson. Come on, just a few more bites," she coaxed, holding the spoon to his mouth again.

Sam got four more spoonfuls into him before he slouched down into the bed with a whine. She figured that was the best she was going to get and switched the bowl with the medicine.

"Just drink your medicine and you can go back to sleep, okay?"

"I don't wanna sleep," he mumbled.

She kept herself from pointing out that he just said he wanted to sleep, reminding herself that he's sick as a dog (whatever that expression meant). She measured out the medicine on the spoon and held it up to him. Freddie shook his head.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Benson, don't make me hold open your mouth and force feed this to you."

"Can I have juice?" He asked in a small voice. That combined with his stupid, pathetic eyes made Sam's heart clench. It reminded her of the time her mom had fed Frothy rotten meat and she had gotten sick and laid around in her room looking all pitiful with her big cat eyes. And then started retching up cat puke on her carpet.

Sam held the spoon carefully in her left hand and fished out a juice box from the cooler. She handed it to Freddie.

"Now open," she said. He did and then immediately sipped the juice as the medicine went down.

She put down the medicine and felt his forehead. He was still really warm but she thought his temperature must have gone down a little bit. Just to be sure she reached down to the tub and wrung out the towel and put it on Freddie's head.

He jumped. "Ah! That's cold!"

"Stay still! We have to bring your fever down." She held onto his shoulders and pushed him until he was lying down. He shivered and looked up at her with those big eyes again and she caved and tucked his comforter around him tighter.

"Sam, if I'm dreaming why am I so cold?" He asked, his teeth chattering.

"We'll warm you up, baby," Sam said absently, reaching for his thermometer and putting it in his ear. 101.7.

It had gone down, just as she suspected. Hopefully when the medicine took full effect, his fever would break.

When she looked back down at him, he was just staring at her with a look on his face that she hadn't seen since…since they dated. Then her mind backtracked a few minutes and she could have kicked herself.

"I missed you, Sam," he said.

She looked away and fought back the lump in her throat. She knew coming here was a mistake.

"I'm gonna go," she stood up. "Go back to sleep."

"No! Don't leave, please."

She was halfway to the door when she heard a thump followed by coughing and turned to see Freddie in a heap on the floor.

"Freddie! What are you doing?" She knelt down next to him and heaved him back onto the bed. When she tried to get up she was pulled back down by Freddie's arms around her neck.

"What are you doing Benson? Let go!"

"Don't go," he muttered, coughing into her hair.

"I don't care how sick you are, if you don't let go of me, I will snap both your arms off," she growled.

Freddie giggled. "You sound like real Sam."

His arms loosened around her neck but his head was now lying on her shoulder.

"You smell like real Sam," he sighed and snuggled his face into her neck.

She couldn't breathe, she thought she might be the one sick now. Her skin felt hot, her palms were sweaty, and heart was beating so fast she thought it might pop out of her chest any minute now.

She had that peculiar feeling of wanting to push him off her and hold him closer at the same time. As it was, all she could do was sit there like a statue while Freddie nuzzled her freaking neck.

Sam closed her eyes, feeling the heavy weight on her heart lift for the first time since they had broken up. Screw it, she thought, his fever was high enough that he might not remember any of this and if he did he'll just write it off as delirium. Especially if she pretends she doesn't know what he's talking about if he asks her.

If she has just this one night with him, one tiny reprieve from the heartache of being without him, what was the harm in taking it?

Gently, she lifted his head from her and laid him back on the bed. His eyes were closed and he whimpered a little but settled down as she shifted her weight and lay down beside him, hugging him beneath the covers.

"Don't leave me, Sam," Freddie said, wrapping his arms around her. "I've missed you so much."

"I missed you too," she whispered.

He sighed in contentment and she took the risk of looking up at his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth was turned up in a smile. He had such a nubbishly cute face she almost couldn't stand it. She brushed his hair back from his forehead, slightly wet from the towel compresses, and felt the movement of his chest against her growing steadier as his breathing slowed and evened out as he fell asleep.

Well, great, because of her boredom she was now in Freddie's bed, wrapped up in his arms because his brain was addled by delirium. She really didn't make good decisions when she was bored. She didn't make good decisions in general, but this one had to be her worst yet.

This was only confirmed when she heard a noise that sounded like a door closing. Mrs. Benson must be home. Yeah, what she really needed was Crazy catching her in her son's bed. As quickly and as carefully as she could, Sam disentangled herself from Freddie's arms and got out of bed.

As soon as she stood up, the door opened. "Freddiebear, how are you-"

Her eyes widened at the sight of Sam, who quickly put a finger to her lips and pointed at Freddie.

Mrs. Benson thankfully took the hint and stiffly gestured her out into the hall.

Sam looked longingly at the window, her usual escape route, but followed her out. She closed the door carefully behind her and cut Crazy off before she could start her tirade. "His fever was at 103.5 when I got here. I fed him soup and gave him his medicine, I've been putting cold towels on his head and I got it down to 101.7 the last time I checked."

Mrs. Benson just looked at her, seemingly speechless from the shock of it all.

"So yeah, your turn now. I'll be going. See ya around, Mrs. B," Sam said, walking past her.

"Sam," Mrs. Benson said and she turned around. "It's raining really hard out there, maybe you should stay here until it passes."

She shrugged. "Nah, I'll just hang out at Carly's."

Mrs. Benson's mouth opened and then closed, her face twisted from the agony of holding back whatever it was she wanted to say.

"What?" Sam demanded none too gently.

She opened the door to the hallway closet and took out a ridiculously large bottle of antibacterial wash and shoved it into Sam's arms. "At least disinfect yourself," she said. "You'll get sick too."

Part of her wanted to laugh in Crazy's face and part of her was touched that she cared at all if she got sick. She held onto the bottle.

"Don't tell him I was here," she said. "Please."

Mrs. Benson still looked like she wanted to say something but nodded once. That was all Sam needed and she left the apartment, antibacterial wash clutched in one arm.

Marissa watched as the door shut behind the girl that her son had referred to many times as the "blonde headed demon". She had never understood their friendship from the time that Freddie started spending nearly all of his time with her and Carly. And she understood even less now that an attempt at dating Sam (her worst nightmare come true) had reached its natural and inevitable conclusion.

She quietly walked into Freddie's room and over to his bed. He had thrown the covers off himself and she could see from the sweat on his forehead that his fever was breaking. His bedside table that was so neatly arranged when she had left was now in disarray, a half full bowl of soup sitting there with an empty juice box. There was also a tub with water on the floor and wet towels strewn around it.

"Sam…" Freddie mumbled, clutching his pillow like a lifeline.

Samantha Puckett. The hurricane that had entered her baby boy's life. The girl spent years teasing him, beating him, causing him physical and emotional pain. Moreover, she caused her mild mannered, even tempered boy to yell and shout, and get into all kinds of trouble.

Marissa took out all her anger and frustration on Carly but the truth was it was Sam that had caused her baby boy to change, had awakened his hormones, and ultimately made him into a young man that could stand up for himself.

What confused her the most was that this wasn't the first time she had seen Sam take care of her Freddie. And just like now, Sam seemed desperate that Freddie never know about her acts of care and kindness. It was at the hospital after that horrific taco truck accident.

_Marissa couldn't believe that she had been called on duty while her son was lying broken ina hospital bed. But seeing as Freddie was knocked out on painkillers and had to stay overnight on observation, plus she had her good friend Diane assigned as his nurse, she saw no reason why she shouldn't be able to fulfill her own duties to the other sick and needy people in the hospital. And despite her own anxiety and unwillingness to let Freddie out of her sight, she knew he'd be fine and fast asleep for her eight hour night duty. _

_ By the time she was done at seven the next morning she was exhausted, but she headed straight to the third floor to see her baby boy. She walked into Freddie's room, the good thing about being a nurse in this hospital was that she managed to get her son a private room without the extra cost. But, to her surprise, he wasn't the lone occupant of the room. _

_ Sitting in a chair beside Freddie's bed was a sleeping Samantha Puckett with her head resting on top of her folded arms on the bed._

_ Marissa put her hand on Sam's shoulder, gently shaking her. Sam's head came up, looking around in confusion as she rubbed her eyes._

_ "Sam," Marissa said. "Have you been here all night?"_

_ She shrugged and then winced, rubbing her neck._

_ "There are visiting hours, you know," she said sternly._

_ Sam rolled her eyes. "Like I care."_

_ "Samantha-"_

_ "Save it, Crazy, I'm leaving." She stood up, picking up her backpack sitting beside her chair. She unzipped it and pulled out a comic book and handed it to her._

_ "That's the new comic book that the nub has been yapping about all week. He was going to pick it up after we filmed the iCarly bit but…" She trailed off, looking down at Freddie's face. If it had been anyone else but Samantha Puckett, Marissa would have said that look was sadness. But as soon as it was there, it was gone. When Sam looked up at her it was with her usual bored, 'I don't care about anything' expression._

_ "Just give him that," Sam said. "Don't tell him it's from me. Don't tell him I was here at all."_

_ And without giving her a chance to respond, Sam walked past her and out of the room. Marissa stared after her, completely baffled. But she had heeded Sam's wish and didn't say anything to Freddie._

_ Only days later, after Freddie's break-up with Carly, she heard voices in Freddie's room. It sounded like he was talking to someone. Freddie's door was ajar and she peeked through the crack. She could see Sam sitting on Freddie's bed, bent over his leg. It looked like she was writing on his cast._

_ "Ow, Sam, don't press down so hard!"_

_ "Don't be such a baby, Freduccinni. I'm almost done."_

_ They were silent for a few moments and Marissa started to feel guilty about intruding. She was about to walk away when Freddie spoke again._

_ "Hey, Sam?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "Thanks," he said._

_ Sam laughed. "Wait 'til you see what I'm drawing on here before you say that."_

_ "As long as I'm not being eaten by a tiger again."_

_ "How do you feel about being trampled by monkeys?" Sam asked._

_ "What? Sam!" He leaned over, trying to get a look at his cast but Sam shoved him back. "No peeking, nub!"_

_ Freddie laid back down against his pillows and Sam went back to work._

_ "I meant thanks for what you said about me and Carly."_

_ Marissa didn't miss the way Sam swung her head so that her hair fell across her face, shielding her from Freddie's gaze._

_ "And for coming over today."_

_ "There, I'm done," she said, sitting up. _

_ Freddie looked down at her work. "Is that a comic strip?"_

_ He craned his neck to see it better. "I'm shooting iCarly in my cast, I'm on my laptop with cast propped up on the table, and then I'm…eating a taco? Sam!"_

_ "What?" She said defensively. "It was the truck that hit you, the tacos didn't do anything!"_

_ Freddie burst into laughter and then so did Sam. He hit her with a pillow and she stopped abruptly._

_ "Oh, you are going to pay for that, nub."_

_ "No no, Sam! I'm disabled!"_

_ "Not until I'm through with you, you're not," she said, grabbing a pillow and hitting him._

_ "Ahh Sam!" Freddie yelled but couldn't hold back his laughter._

_ Marissa shut the door quietly and left them to it. She really didn't understand them at all._

She looked down at her sleeping Freddie, the most important thing in her world. She was finally beginning to understand that maybe he was also the most important thing in Sam Puckett's world. And she was going to have to come to terms with that because really, even she could see that it was only a matter of time until they got back together.


End file.
